


Knot a problem

by GonEwiththeWolveS



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Coming Untouched, Geralt is an oblivious idiot, Jaskier just wants his alpha, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, no beta we die like witchers, read endnotes for possible trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23712640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GonEwiththeWolveS/pseuds/GonEwiththeWolveS
Summary: Jaskier's been having a shitty day to begin with, but it takes an unforseen turn for the worse when he goes into a late surprise heat in a tavern full of alphas.Enter Geralt, who comes to the rescue and kindly helps the omega through his first heat.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 34
Kudos: 1039





	Knot a problem

**Author's Note:**

> READ endnotes for possible trigger!!
> 
> Basically this was born because I want to write smut at some point in the future in one of my bigger fic ideas, and I figured I should practice with one shots first before I inevitably screw it up in bigger more fleshed out fics. I probably should have started with something easier and more vanilla but, go big or go home right? xD
> 
> It's safe to say I'm not exactly proud of this - ahem - but I'd appreciate constructive feedback, since I do hope I can improve my smut writing skills in preparation for bigger fics. 
> 
> Excuse my lack of originality in a title, it's 6 am and I should definitely be asleep, oops.

Jaskier lets out a groan, squinting his eyes against the bright morning light that is doing nothing to ease his headache. He adjusts the strap of the lute on his shoulder and breathes out a weary sigh, dragging his feet along the dirt track.

The day had decidedly not gotten off to a great start. Aside from the atrocious migraine he’s nursing, he’d woken up with a bothersome stiffness in his entire body, one that no amount of stretching could make disappear.

He’s most likely coming down with something, and, if the grumpy witcher finds out, his ass will be dumped in the next town over. So, he’ll be alone, again. At least until the next time they happen to come across each other and Jaskier once more tags along uninvited.

The outlook isn’t looking pretty, and Geralt has already noticed something is off.

When he’d gotten up in the morning, he’d stumbled over to the firepit and plopped down without much preambles. For once, he was in no mood to engage in conversation, the shooting pain in the back of his head saw to that. He brought his bedroll cover along with him as a blanket to fight off the stupidly gelid morning air and wrapped it tighter around himself.

Geralt passed him a rabbit’s leg and Jaskier grumbled a thanks, nibbling down on the meat as he snuggled into the quilt. It was far from ideal breakfast food, but out in the wild there were few other choices. It was either that or a carp fresh from the creek. Jaskier would take his rabbit leg, thank you very much.

He could feel Geralt gaze on him as he ate though, and it was starting to make him feel inexplicably irritated. He huffed out an annoyed breath, but Geralt didn’t seem to get the hint. 

“What?” he finally snapped, lifting his eyes to glare at the witcher.

Geralt furrowed his brow, “You’re unusually non-talkative today.”

“Figured you’d be happy with that,” Jaskier retorted, with perhaps a little more pettiness then intended. Geralt’s brows raised minutely in his forehead, which was the witcher equivalent of gaping surprise.

They fell quiet for a few moments, Jaskier returning his attention to his nearly finished meal, but the witcher’s gaze didn’t leave him.

“You also…” Geralt started saying, making Jaskier shoot him a warning look out of the corner his eye. “Smell,” he settled on, twitching his nose.

Jaskier raised his head sharply, fixing Geralt with an incensed glare.

“Says the witcher who comes home twice a week dragging drowner guts all over the floor,” he bit out, feeling a twinge of embarrassment underneath the heated outrage at the alpha’s observation.

“Home?” The alpha frowned and Jaskier froze, looking away.

Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that, it just slipped. He was aware the witcher had serious commitment issues, and he didn’t want to him to know he’d consider anywhere with him home. The knowledge would send the alpha running for the hills.

He knew what he’d been getting into when he first started tailing the witcher, or… well, err, he thought he did. He’d found the man unbelievably attractive the moment he’d laid eyes on him, it was no secret, and figured it would stay just that: an adoration of the physical form.

He thought they would maybe roll around in the hay a couple of times, he’d pump out a few new crowd-pleasing songs and be on his merry way. However, the first problem with that picture arose with the fact that the man seemed unwilling to bed him, even when Jaskier had given him ample opportunity to.

Despite being denied on that facet, Jaskier kept coming back, because life alongside the witcher was… everything he’d ever dreamt of. 

It crept on him slowly, the awareness that what he was starting to feel for the alpha went further than just an appreciation for his physique. The more time he spent with the witcher, the deeper in he got, and when he realized what was happening, it was too late to stop it.

He’d fallen heads over heels with the bullheaded alpha. And he knew his affections would never be reciprocated. If the alpha wasn’t interested before, he sure as hell wouldn’t be now. So, Jaskier was left to his hand, and to the occasional bed warmer whenever they stopped in a town long enough for him to charm someone into his trousers. 

It was fine, he could live with it, just as long as he got to have the alpha in the other parts of life. 

“You know what I mean.” He waved a hand dismissively, trying to play off his slip up. “Inn, tavern, camp.”

Geralt stared at him for a beat, frowning. Then, with a grunt, he looked away.

Jaskier turned back to his rabbit leg and deemed the conversation concluded. As such, he almost missed it when the witcher grumbled out, “I didn’t say you smelled bad,” nearly too quiet for him too listen.

Jaskier looked back at him in surprise, but the alpha didn’t volunteer any additional information, choosing to busy himself with whetting his precious swords.

* * *

Jaskier now walks next to Roach on the dirt paved path, with the witcher mounting his trusty steed by his side. They’re heading over to Maribor and, at the pace they’re going, should reach the town within an hour.

Geralt has apparently caught on to the bard’s less than pleasant mood and is refraining from making further comments as to how different Jaskier is acting today. Good.

The walk is not agreeing with him in the slightest, the blazing heat of the sun is merciless on his face, and Jaskier can feel himself sweating through every pore in his body. He’s already removed his double and is down to his to the merciful chiffon fabric of his chemise to combat the oppressing heat.

Geralt shot him a strange look when he divested himself of the garment with a frustrated flail of limbs, but the glare pointed his way made him bite his tongue and turn his attention back to the road.

His throat is unbearably parched, but he has already drunk the entire contents of his waterskin, so he is forced to soldier on through it.

They’d covered about half of the remaining distance when Geralt calls for a break, eyeing him strangely. Jaskier lets out a sigh of relief and flops down on the ground against a nice handy tree.

Geralt leads Roach to the side so she can munch over on a patch of weeds and the mare lets out a snort of delight. Leaving the horse to her treats, the witcher turns around and walks over to him.

Jaskier squints up at him and is surprised when a waterskin is thrusted in his direction.

“Drink,” Geralt orders, looking intently at Roach.

Jaskier reaches for the offered container, bewildered, and feels something tug at his heart. The witcher noticed he didn’t have enough water and is providing for him. The thought makes his insides dance with joy.

He sates his thirst and hands the waterskin back too Geralt, shooting him a thankful smile. There’s a note of satisfaction in the witcher’s face.

They regain their strengths (mostly Jaskier) and set off again, managing to reach the town in about half an hour more.

There’s nothing special about this particular settlement, it’s just like all the others Jaskier has passed through before. Same stone buildings, same rambunctious kids, same cantankerous alphas… It’s nothing new. Geralt leads them over to the local inn and books them a bedroom.

They had been sharing rooms lately to cut back on the costs, and Jaskier had been treated to innumerous displays of Geralt in flimsy cotton undershorts and bare trunk. It satisfied the wanton part of him, at least. 

Geralt tosses him the room key and tells him to go ahead, since he’s still going to settle Roach in the stables and have a look around. He’s probably going to see if he can find himself some contracts.

Jaskier nods and heads upstairs, eager to lie back on his cot and take long deserved nap. He fits the key in the door and turns the knob, but, before he steps foot inside, he realizes something very obvious about the room.

It only has one bed, a couple’s bed. The innkeeper obviously misunderstood the nature of their relationship. There’s a rebellious part of Jaskier that is very pleased at the assumption, but he mostly feels frustrated at the situation.

Now he has to go downstairs and clear this whole confusion up before Geralt comes back. But, he’s so tired… and he really doesn’t want to deal with this right now. Maybe he can just take a quick nap and sort this out after. Geralt will probably be a while. 

Jaskier sighs deeply and shuffles over to the bed, placing his lute down on the dresser as he goes.

He plops down on the thin mattress and toes off his shoes, pushing them out of the way with a foot.

The bed isn’t the most comfortable, but he’s exhausted and he doesn’t care. He lays back and pulls the threadbare blanket over himself, closing his eyes and curling up into fetal position to ward off the worst of the cold. 

* * *

The first thing he registers when he wakes up is how _hot_ he is. The heat is so utterly overwhelming that he’s kicked back the blankets in his sleep and still managed to dampen the entire length of the bottom sheet with sweat.

His skin is clammy and uncomfortable, and he feels like crawling out of it. His entire body rings with restlessness and strangeness, even though he must have managed to get a few hours of sleep in, seeing as the sun shines very faintly through the window, dusk setting in.

He doesn’t take long to notice something else; he is rock hard. His cock is impossibly sensitive and every graze of fabric from his clothes, no matter how small, sends cold chills up his spine and brings a mewl out of his mouth. There’s also a… hollowness that he can’t describe deep inside him. Something that he longs desperately to fill.

He lets out whine and shrinks in on himself. He feels miserable, but he needs to take care of the bedroom issue.

Just the thought of leaving the bed makes him shudder in aversion. But Geralt would be mad, and the thought of the alpha mad… puts a strange weight on his stomach. A whimper escapes his mouth as a knee jerk reaction at picturing the witcher displeased. 

He is baffled by his reaction, and about this whole situation to tell the truth, but somehow, he manages to drag himself out of bed. He all but stumbles over to the door, leaning heavily against the wall as he pushes it open.

He’s walking down the hall, realizing that he forgot to put on his shoes because he can feel the fibers of the carpet against the soles of his feet, when the smell hits him. The familiar musky scent of the alphas congregating downstairs, but turned up to eleven.

The smell makes things inside him _twitch_ , and he’s starting to feel the beginnings of fear setting in. What the hell is happening to him?

He gulps, looking back longingly to his bedroom door. He wants to go back so bad and hide under the covers but… Geralt. He can’t make his alpha mad.

He freezes as he registers the thought he just had. _His alpha?_ Where had that come from?

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to get his wits about him. He needs to go visit a healer as soon as possible, to figure out what in the world is happening to him, but first, he needs to talk to the innkeeper.

He opens his eyes and, doing his best to ignore the strong alpha scents that ring with _wrongness,_ carries on down the stairs. As soon as he reaches the floor below, all the conversations die down. He looks up, surprised, to find nearly every eye in the room on him.

With a mortified kind of self-consciousness, he inches over towards bar, but, when he glances at the innkeeper, he is rewarded with the same expression of predatory greed that is on every other alphas’ face.

He gulps and takes a step back, heart starting to beat faster with the first tendrils of fear and panic. He’s about to tuck tail and run when the tavern door swings open.

He whirls around and, to his immediate relief, sees that Geralt has just stepped inside the room.

He’s so relieved at the witcher’s appearance that he takes a while to note how tense Geralt is. Every other alpha in the room has bristled at the witcher’s appearance.

Geralt’s eyes jump to his, and Jaskier is surprised to find that the inky black of his pupils almost engulfs his golden irises entirely.

Before he can dwell too long on the state of his witcher, a vice-like hand clamps around his shoulder and pulls him back sharply, sending him reeling. He’s caught off balance and falls backwards into a someone’s chest – an alpha, as Jaskier can attest by the smell and the feel of the man’s considerable length digging into his thigh.

Suddenly, there’s a very angry witcher growling, in the literal sense of the word, in front of him, and the sound of a punch resonates loudly by his left ear.

Geralt reaches for his arm and tugs him forward, spinning him around so his back rests against his chest, caged by his arms. The alpha who grabbed him is on the floor, spitting out a mouthful of blood to the side.

He’s a moderately young one, probably in his late thirty summers, and has a nice build, but that’s about as far as his virtues go.

“Back off,” he hears Geralt snarl to the rest of the tavern, feeling the rumble of his chest against his back.

The alphas seem to retreat as a whole, recognizing an opponent in Geralt that they had no hope to defeat. A few look less than happy to do so, but no one dares makes a pass at Jaskier again, not with the witcher’s overt claim of territory.

Geralt growls one last time, in an obvious warning, and starts herding Jaskier away. When they make it to the stairs, Geralt hauls him up and Jaskier can’t help the contented little sound that escapes his mouth, snuggling closer to that comfy broad chest.

Regrettably soon, they reach the bedroom door, and Geralt carries him inside. He feels the witcher hesitate slightly as he takes in the space, and fleetingly remembers that the room only has one bed, and that Geralt wouldn’t be happy with that.

The alpha doesn’t linger for long though, and he promptly finds himself being deposited in the thin mattress.

He whines in protest as the witcher leans away, and chases after him, hands clutching in the fabric of Geralt’s chemise.

“Jaskier!” Geralt bites out in a chiding tone, making Jaskier shrink backwards and whimper. He’s made his alpha mad.

Geralt runs a hand through his face and sighs deeply.

“Jaskier, do you know what’s happening?” he asks, looking down to meet Jaskier’s eyes.

Jaskier swallows nervously and shakes his head, feeling every instinct inside him telling him to scoot closer to the alpha.

“You’re in heat.”

Jaskier reels back in shock. He’s not— he can’t be in heat. _Betas_ don’t have heats. Why is Geralt telling him this? It doesn’t make any sense.

“I—I’m not—” Jaskier mumbles, frowning in confusion. “I’m a beta.”

Geralt sighs again.

“You’re not, Jaskier. Your first heat just hit later than most,” he explains, taking another step back. “It happens. Rarely, but it happens.”

Jaskier stares at Geralt, uncomprehending. It’s impossible to believe, but… it would explain how he feels. He feels the seed of doubt plant itself in his mind and starts second guessing everything he’d previously assumed.

The unbearable warmth that followed him most of the day, and the occasional spells of cold; he’d just written it off as the symptoms of a cold or flu, but omegas were known to work themselves up into a fever when in heat.

And the stiffness of his body, his fluctuating moods, the painful sensitivity of his cock, it all presented an argument in favor of what Geralt was proposing.

Oh gods, he’s an omega, He’s in _heat_. And every single one of those alphas downstairs would have had their way with Jaskier regardless of his willingness if Geralt hadn’t shown up.

He’s heard the stories about heats, about how unbearable they are if one lacks a partner who can appease the urges. What he feels is just the start, if he keeps abstaining, soon he’ll be mindless with need. And the only alpha he wants to share his heat with obviously doesn’t want him back.

Geralt had patiently waited through his internal meltdown, but his expression and his posture belay how tense he really is. He looks like he could snap at any moment.

“What do I do?” He asks, hating how shaky his voice sounds.

“Stay inside. I’ll guard the door and make sure no one comes in,” Geralt responds, and Jaskier can see his face set in determination.

“Alone?” Jaskier whispers, looking up through his lashes to gaze at Geralt’s expression.

The witcher freezes, looks down, and Jaskier can see his pupils blow impossibly larger. There’s merely a hint of gold in those eyes now.

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Please,” he pleads, getting up from the bed on wobbly legs so he can inch closer to Geralt.

“Jaskier, stop,” Geralt snaps, jerking back from him.

Jaskier stops moving and feels tears gather in his eyes at his alpha’s blatant refusal of him. Is he really that bad that not even as an omega in heat Geralt would bed him? He shrinks back on himself and feels his heart sink in his chest.

Geralt’s face seems to soften at his obvious dejection, and he tries reaching a hand in his direction, but this time Jaskier steps back. He wraps his arms around himself, and does his best to hold back the tears, but the act is useless since he seems uncapable of stopping the little distressed noises he’s making.

“Jaskier, you don’t want me,” Geralt says, in a sad tone of voice.

Jaskier looks up at the alpha, confused and hurt.

“You know that’s not true.”

Geralt frowns and reaches for him again. This time Jaskier lets him near and the witcher’s hands settle on his cheeks, cupping his face and tilting it up so he’s left with no choice but to meet the alpha’s eyes.

“What are you talking about, Jaskier?” Geralt asks, and there is an urgency in his darkened eyes.

“You know…” Jaskier trails off, feeling his cheeks color in embarrassment. “I’ve wanted you since…”

“Since when?” Geralt insists. There’s a hungry tinge to his gaze, and it’s stirring up a pool of heat in Jaskier’s stomach.

“Since I first saw you,” he murmurs, and Geralt lets out a deep rumble.

He’s surprised to feel something wet and slick start running down his thighs at the sound, leaving his underpants sticky and soggy. Geralt’s nostrils flare and he growls low in his throat, eyes jumping down to glance at his lips.

Jaskier feels his cheeks flare in embarrassment and lets out a pleading noise. The sound apparently severs the last string of Geralt’s tightly held self-control.

The witcher surges forward, a wild look in his eyes, and captures Jaskier’s mouth in his, commanding and demanding as their lips slant together, breaths mingling. Jaskier melts against Geralt and moans at the feel of his alpha so close.

The witcher makes use of the opportunity to slip his tongue inside Jaskier’s mouth, and the bard offers no resistance, kissing Geralt like the world depends on it.

He can feel Geralt’s cock press against stomach, and he knows first-hand how well-endowed Geralt is – he’d had no lack of opportunity for ogling the witcher when he’d aided him bathe – but feeling him heavy and firm? It seems impossibly bigger.

He pictures that throbbing cock pumping into him and feels himself quiver at the thought, whimpering into Geralt’s mouth. The sound is muffled between their mouths, as Geralt continues to lick inside him.

The alpha’s hands had trailed down his back and are now resting on his ass, gently massaging the skin. Geralt pinches one of his cheeks a bit harder and Jaskier gasps in surprise, feeling more slick trickle out of him.

The witcher swallows the breath and uses the hold on his ass to lift him up. Jaskier wraps his legs around his waist, feeling Geralt’s erection brush against his own and shoot sparks of pleasure up his spine as he’s carried over to the bed.

Geralt drops him on the mattress and Jaskier barely has time to protest at the witcher’s sudden absence when the man crawls over him, balling his fists in the fabric of his chemise and pulling. The tissue comes apart in Geralt’s hands, ripping at the seams, and Geralt leans down to suck a nipple into his mouth.

Jaskier arches his back and let’s out choked sound as Geralt toys with the sensitive bud. His hands find the witcher’s hair and he grabs purchase in it as the man continues to ravage him.

Geralt swirls a tongue around the reddened nipple and sucks it back into his mouth, before letting go with a pop.

Jaskier is squirming uncontrollably under him, and Geralt shoots him a wolfish smirk, stilling him with a firm grip on his waist.

“Don’t move, little bird,” he orders, and Jaskier feels a thrill of pleasure at the endearment.

He lets out a whine, making the witcher chuckle as he starts trailing a line of open-mouthed kisses down his stomach. He watches with bated breath as the alpha pulls away to untie his pants, sliding them and his undershorts down his legs in a swift movement.

Jaskier kicks the clothing off the rest of the way and shudders at the way the witcher leans back to admire his nude body. There’s an alluring predatory glint to Geralt’s heated gaze as he leans down to lick a stripe up the underside of Jaskier’s cock, collecting the beady white pear of pre-cum on his tongue when he reaches the slit.

Jaskier moans and bucks his hips at the ministrations, more slick leaking out of him and pooling on the bed linen beneath him. Geralt uses his grip on Jaskier hips to still him and lets out a disapproving tsk noise.

Jaskier whimpers but does his best to contain the reflexive little jerks of his hips as Geralt continues to play with the tip of his leaking cock. Geralt’s tongue feels sinfully good on his dick, and it leaves Jaskier wondering how many times he had practiced it before. All semblance of thought abandons him when Geralt sucks the head of his cock into his mouth, though.

He can’t hold himself still anymore, thrusting into the heat of Geralt’s mouth and grunting when the witcher swallows around him. He keeps chasing his release, starting with short shallow jerks that turn into frantic sharp thrusts as Geralt keeps licking around him and allows him too fuck deeper into his throat.

Jaskier feels himself getting close and tugs at Geralt’s hair, trying to get him off, but the witcher merely lets out a reproachful growl and takes Jaskier in deeper, throat muscles working around his unbearably hard cock.

Jaskier comes with a strangled cry, shooting his load down Geralt’s throat, who swallows every drop of it like a starved man. He feels another stream of slick pouring out of his ass as he collapses against the mattress, coming down from the high of the orgasm as the aftershocks reverberate in his very spine.

His release took a bit of the edge off, but Jaskier is surprised and unsettled to find that he still aches for something else, still feels uncomfortably wound up and wanting. 

Geralt slips off his spent cock with a loud obscene pop, and looks at him hungrily, licking his lips. Jaskier shudders, and stares at Geralt though drooped eyelids as the witcher reaches down for his own pants.

There’s a very noticeable tent to them, Jaskier notes as the alpha starts working on buttons. He feels himself trembling with desire as the fabric finally falls away to reveal Geralt’s huge throbbing cock, wanting to know how it will feel like inside him.

Geralt notices him staring and smirks, running his hands up Jaskier’s naked thighs and nudging them apart. Jaskier’s cock gives a little jerk of interest as Geralt pushes his legs up, exposing his leaking hole.

Jaskier looks anxiously up at Geralt, feeling a little apprehensive of what his body is screaming at him to do. He wants, no he _needs,_ Geralt’s cock buried deep in him, more than that; he needs something that fits that gaping hole in his core.

He realizes, somewhat nervously, that was he’s really craving is an alpha’s knot. The thought fills with an excited yet fearful sort of anticipation. 

All coherent thought processes are put on hold as Geralt traces a thumb across his opening, not yet pushing in, making Jaskier keen loudly. If being taken will feel as good as this is, Jaskier has no qualms about it.

Geralt gathers some of the slick with the pad of his thumb and pushes it back inside, pressing slightly and passing the first knob of his finger through the first ring of muscle. Jaskier whimpers, writhing on the sheets as Geralt starts using his thumb to open him up.

He feels himself give easily, already slicked up and eager from the natural lubricant and the previous orgasm, and soon Geralt adds another finger. The alpha starts working him with scissoring motions and Jaskier finds himself absolutely unable to lie still, sparks of pure pleasure shooting up from his core as Geralt keeps fingering him.

Geralt adds a third finger and Jaskier feels mindless with need and desire, getting close to the edge again. He starts grinding against Geralt’s fingers and brings his hands up to pump his cock.

Before he can manage a single stroke, Geralt bats his hand away with a scolding growl and removes his fingers from Jaskier’s hole. Jaskier whimpers in desolation at the sudden absence and tries to reach for his cock again, needing some sort of stimulus.

“You will not touch yourself,” Geralt hisses, a primal look on his face as he catches his fist in his hand and pulls it away. “You will come on my cock alone or you won’t come at all.” 

Jaskier looks up at Geralt, wide eyed, and shivers, giving a little obedient nod of his head. Geralt’s face turns pleased and he releases Jaskier fist, letting it fall on the mattress beside them.

Jaskier bites his lips as Geralt reaches down to take himself in hand, watching with rapt attention as he witcher guides the enlarged head to rest against Jaskier’s waiting hole.

Even after all the time that Geralt had put in in opening him up, the head of his cock is still larger than the little cleft, even as Jaskier can feel himself opening and closing in an attempt to suck the inviting pressure in.

The alpha starts pressing himself forward increasingly harder, until the rosy ring of muscle stretches wider and allows the fat head of his cock to pass through.

The witcher pushes himself inside the rest of the way with a smoother long thrust, and Jaskier’s opens up nicely for him, already slicked up and soft from his previous climax.

Geralt grunts as he bottoms out, and Jaskier feels himself contract and release against the alpha’s cock, mind blanking out with the sheer pleasure of it all.

The alpha hovers above Jaskier, holding himself still inside him with what looks like enormous self-restraint as he regards the omega’s face with unabashed lust and hunger. He let’s Jaskier adjust to the intrusion, and then he gives a testing small thrust of his hips.

Jaskier whimpers, hands shooting out to grab onto Geralt’s shoulders. The little movement felt so good, it’s all he wants to feel again. He wiggles his hips, trying to take Geralt in deeper, recreate the feeling, and the witcher inhales sharply, arms trembling besides Jaskier’s head where they hold his weight up on the mattress.

Jaskier wiggles again and Geralt growls, thrusting forward in a sharp move that punches the air out of Jaskier’s lungs and makes him cry in satisfaction.

His cock stands proud and hard against his stomach again, a refractory record period in all his youth. It’s torture not being able to reach down and help himself reach completion again, but it would displease his alpha, and he needs to make his alpha happy.

Geralt pulls out slowly, until only the swollen head remains inside Jaskier, and pushes back inside with a pointed thrust, making Jaskier gasp out in surprise as his cock hits a sweet spot inside him. His cock jerks where it rests against his stomach and he feels his balls spasm.

The witcher pulls out again, tortuously slow, and pushes back in, again and again and again.

Soon, the alpha mercifully picks up the pace, and Jaskier clutches onto his shoulders for dear life, moaning and whimpering and delirious with the feeling. He realizes he’s bucking his hips unrestrainedly as he tries to match the witcher’s rhythm.

Geralt buries his head in the side of his neck and mouths wetly at the skin, teeth lightly grazing and sending another row of shivers down Jaskier’s spine. There’s something innately primal and excitingly daunting to having someone pin him down so thoroughly and hold themselves a bite away from his jugular. The implied threat of the action is delicious.

He feels himself nearing his release and clutches onto Geralt with renewed vigor, moaning and panting as Geralt tilts him up just so and start hitting the spot that sends a current of electricity up his spine with every thrust.

He feels himself start to spasm against Geralt and throws his head back with a cry, being consumed by the mind staggering bursts of pleasure and bliss. There’s a wetness on his chest, and he idly realizes he just shot his load all over himself.

Geralt is still fucking into him, so deep and dizzying that he can feel it rattling his teeth. The alpha is chasing his own release, movements turning frantic and shallow. Jaskier whimpers as he rides off the remaining high of his orgasm, ass starting to feel very sensitive around Geralt’s cock as he continues to pound into him.

He starts feeling the beginnings of a sure and steady pressure in him, and shifts, trying to move away from the overstimulating press catching on sensitive spot inside him. The pleasure is so fierce it turns nearly painful, and he whines in protest.

Geralt grunts and pushes himself deep inside Jaskier with a final thrust, burying his head in Jaskier’s chest as he collapses and spends himself. Jaskier can feel the continuous strings of the alpha’s seed spilling deep in him, the sensation foreign and strange.

The pressure from before isn’t going down though, it’s getting impossibly more pointed and stretching his walls beyond comfort. It’s also starting to press harder on that sweet spot inside him, making his mind whiten with pleasure again.

It’s the knot, Jaskier realizes; his alpha’s knot is building inside him, swelling and pumping and locking them together as Geralt essentially breeds him.

Jaskier shudders and feels his body convulsing as the knot presses excruciatingly harder against that oversensitive part of him, sending him reeling into another surprise climax. His cock jerks uselessly on his stomach, balls contracting, but only manages to shoot out a fine string of come, already depleted from his previous orgasms. 

He melts against the mattress, feeling the delicious press of his alpha’s knot inside him as he comes down from his final high. Geralt is heavy and warm above him, panting into the crook of his neck and trembling as he keeps shooting surge after surge of come into him. His hair tickles Jaskier chin as he lays on top of him.

They lay there for a while, gathering their strengths again.

Jaskier is drifting off, comfortable and warm, when Geralt lifts himself up slightly and slips his hands under Jaskier’s back, turning him on his side. Jaskier whimpers as the movement puts strain on the knot inside him, but the alpha manages to turn them around so that the bard’s back can rest against his chest.

He snuggles back against Geralt, urges sated and body slack for the time being, and closes his eyes, letting the post-orgasmic haze of bliss lull him to sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> There's a part in the fic where Jaskier reasons that had Geralt not shown up, he would have been raped by the other alphas.  
> There's not supposed to be any dubcon, but the nature of heats is always controversial, so, read at your own risk.


End file.
